This is War
by Willow Athena
Summary: How smooth & charming would Zack be if he had to ask someone on a real date? Though she's not the easiest person to get along with. Also with Cloud and Angeal. With so much left unsaid btw them what will her answer be?


**This i****s War**

By Willow Athena

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Final Fantasy VII, or Cirsis Core, but this story is mine.

**Author's Note:** This was the first FF VII Fanfic I had written, so please be gentle. I'm a new FF VII fan, so please forgive me if I get some of the mechanics of the magic system or whatever wrong – some things I have changed intentionally, others I may just not know about. But its not about the magic, its really about Zack…

I think Zack is the most awesome FF character I have come across and that he deserves so much more credit than he has gotten. So I decided to write this. I was idly searching for the _30 Seconds to Mars – This is war_ music video and came across an FMV with many different FF games cut scenes spliced to the song, and out of all of them, I immediately adored Zack, yes – even above Cloud (though I think he is nice as well). Then I searched for the Crisis Core game and yeah…how it ends – HATE IT !!! I think Zack deserves more credit, so I'm pretending it didn't end that way…and that Zack is 1st Class, and Cloud third, and they are still working for ShinRa in SOLDIER.

In this story, I'm totally imagining Zack, at 22 (like at the end of the game, but without having been held hostage etc.), but I like his hair at the beginning of Crisis Core. So yeah, this is Zack…if he was unburdened, not having had to kill Angeal, no scars on his beautiful face, no new hair cut, just in ignorant bliss.

I'm trying out a new style of story…the story seamlessly slips form the present situation to things that have happened in the past, and then back to the present again – so watch out for that, and I hope no one gets confused.

* * *

"What am I supposed to say to him, Cloud?" Her voice was an ethereal wispy sound, tainted by frustration as she placed her stethoscope around her. She flicked her long black hair over it, letting the instrument rest comfortably on her neck, as it always did. "'_Hey Zack, hope you get hurt so I can touch you_'," she mockingly suggested as Cloud put his shirt back on.

Her office was a small, dimly lit room, with more storage than office space. But, she would never have even gotten this, were it not for her brother's doting affection and guilt. He had so much to be guilty for, the majority of it stemming from a needless lie. Her desk was littered with potions and her open laptop, the picture of organised chaos. She placed Cloud's bandages in a biohazard bin next to the bed on which he sat. She had often slept on that bed when on call, not bothering to go home, only to have to race all the way back to the hospital wing of the military base, and NOT because she was trying to avoid Zack, or the girls who would tumble out of his apartment at all hours of the night.

"If you really like him, just…tell him," Cloud sighed. He hated when she was in one of these moods. Being both her, and Zack's, best friend was infuriating at times. The two were so utterly different, that he often wondered how he managed to enjoy both their company. Zack was funny, laid back, easy going and well loved. She, on the other hand was witty, obsessive, demanding, and isolating. Their polarity frequently repulsed the other, often leaving Cloud refereeing a fight about the most insignificant things.

"I'd rather tell him to break a leg!" She flung the retort at his insane suggestion. Yes, it was insanity…she could not take the chance that he did not feel the same way. She had gotten the distinct impression that he did not care for her – if his parade of floozies and skanks, as _she_ deemed them, were anything to go by. She had once lied to him – when woken at 2am in the morning because he was unable to find his key card to his room across from hers – she had told him that syphilis was an extremely painful disease to treat, and threw his spare key at him. He had said nothing in return.

She hated the floor plan of the military barracks. Her brother, Angeal, on one side, Cloud on the other, and Zack across from her. Angeal had insisted, vowing it was the safest apartment in the whole base, and that he would not _allow_ her to stay anywhere else.

She hated running into Zack, dressed for dates with a new skank every few days. Hated hearing laughter coming from his apartment at midnight. At first she had plainly thought it was annoyance, but…she knew herself better now.

Noticing his best friend's approach, Cloud sighed and jumped down from the bed, wanting to leave before their bickering began today. Zack looked in good spirits – smiling broadly, a walked filled with ease, hair cascading on either side of his cheeks towards his strong jaw, a playful look of mischief about him.

"Yo, Doc,"

She stiffened, back still facing his direction, and praying he hadn't heard the 'break a leg' comment. "You're late," she dismissively responded as she turned to look at the tall man. He said nothing in response, obviously not in the mood to start anything right now. Zack was liked by some, and loved by most, and had an easy-going temperament that no one except she could get under. Since he had been away on a two week long mission, he had had a break from her, and was trying to be on his best behaviour today.

"See you later, Scar," Cloud called from the doorway. "Later, Zack," he added. She really was her own worst enemy, he thought. Truthfully, neither of them had noticed his departure – sucked into a world of their own, where they were about to embark on a battle.

"Red this week, I see," Zack smiled at her. "It suits you," he impishly added. Since the year she had been there, he had seen her highlight her long black hair with almost every colour he could think of: blue, green, purple…any decent colour that would take to her long silken layers. She seemed to change the colour of the highlights everytime she and Angeal had a big fight, which was often. She was fond of the turquoise which seemed to irk Angeal the most, but this deep red suited her temperament more.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She sounded a little annoyed at her derived interpretation of his words. She was defensive, as usual, so he ignored the question, and decided to attempt to change the subject.

"Where do you want me?" He inquired, looking around her make-shift office.

"The bed," she indicated, while removing the surgical gloves she had had on while changing Cloud's dressing. She pulled a new pair from a box.

"Do you really need to use those? They feel so…weird," he moaned. " I promise I won't contaminate you. I showered and everything before I came." He poked once more at her more than slight obsession with cleanliness. When she arrived at the military base a year ago, she would not use a utensil, or touch a surface which she did not first disinfect. At the time, he had thought her an annoying, rich, brat with nothing better to do than be displeased with everything in sight, including him.

Zack had been the given the unlucky mission of escorting Angeal's sister to his office. He was nervous, an unusual thing for him to feel, and had rambled to her quiet silence all the way from the gate. He would later come to realise that silence was a rare gift to expect from her, and often belied something mischievous rippling under the surface.

"Scarlet, how do you like our little Puppy?" Angeal had inquired of her.

"I'm more of a cat person, you know that brother," she had replied, not even bothering to look back at Zack.

"Of course, my kitten," he had laughed in response.

"I told you to stop calling me that!" She had stomped her foot, looking younger than the 21 year old she was supposed to be.

Angeal had been pleased that she had not been ensnared by Zack's obvious charm, as every other female on the base was. Her apparent distaste for Zack put Angeal's mind at ease – thankfully, he would not have to forbid Zack from dating her.

She did not deny hating the ShinRa military base, and ShinRa itself. But, she was one of the few skilled doctors, trained to be on the front lines, and willing to go there. She was not SOLDIER, or apart of the military, but because of Angeal, she had been surrounded by the world of war all her life. She hated the barracks! She hated the dusty smell of it, the stale sweat that so often lingered in the saturated air, emanating from both men and women who were as big as houses. Though she looked tall and slender, compared to 'normal', unenhanced, people, she felt small compared to the oversized soldiers. Even the female soldiers were quite a bit larger than her, and had very little in common with her, since they had never had the need to pick up a book that was not about combat in some way.

He sat down on the bed and sighed as she snapped on the her surgical glove. "Undress," she commanded. It was a tone he had heard Angeal frequently use to generate submission from his soldiers.

"Girls usually buy me dinner, before saying something like that," he joked, noticing a slight unease in his voice.

"Don't liken me to any of your skanks," she snapped. She bent over her laptop to open his medical records. "Why would they ever purchase something of which they were unsure?" She absently added, not consciously trying to be mean, but she knew it had emerged that way.

When she looked up to see his reaction, he sat, arms folded, and a stubborn set to his jaw.

"What?" She snapped, a little sheepishly.

"They're not buying me. Not everything can be bought," he eventually replied, sounding a little hurt, as though she had kicked him in the groin.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to suggest that they were." She had softly whispered the '_I'm sorry_' part, though she knew he had heard it with his mako enhanced senses. "How about this – if you're a good boy, I'll give you a lollipop," she patronisingly added, in an attempt to regain some power in her never ending battle with Zack. He made no movement, no response. "What made you think my command was a suggestion? Undress!" she impatiently added.

He decided to let it go. The mere extraction of a type of apology from her was probably causing her enough pain as it was. There she stood, in front of him, arms folded, weight shifted to her left, and right foot about to begin tapping. Even sitting down on the hospital bed, his 6ft3 frame was far taller than the 5ft4 he judged her to be. _Almost a foot taller_, he thought. Feeling the heat inexplicably rush to his face, he tried to distract himself from that line of thinking.

Since they were within the base, he did not have all of his armour on, just the black sleeveless turtleneck of a 1st Class. He removed the garment, all the while attempting not to ruffle his perfect hair.

"Where are you hurt?" She had obviously noticed him wince while pulling the turtleneck off. Although she often looked disinterested, she missed nothing. She also expected the same macho answer she always got from him.

"Isn't that your job?" he deflected.

"This is not hide and seek."

"It's nothing. Really." Just as she had expected him to reply.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, as she had many times before.

Zack, now 22, had been in the SOLDIER training program since he was 14 years old – it was all he knew, and in SOLDIER, scoffing at wounds was a clear indication of flirting. The only problem was, that she was not in the military, she was not SOLDIER, and so, all his attempts at flirting with her were usually dismissed as stupidity on his part.

He had once attempted, what he considered to be blatant flirting. He had allowed her to try out his Buster sword. He later admitted to himself, that the picture had looked quite comical, since the sword was almost as tall as she was, and he had leaned it on the ground for her and asked her to hold it. After a minute, she suggested she was not a '_weapons rack_', and that he should hold his '_own fucking sword_' – after which, she stormed off without a second glance in his direction.

The other female soldiers loitering nearby, _had_ noticed his failed attempt at flirtation with her, and subsequently teased him for a month about it.

The truth of the matter was, that she had tried to lift the impossibly large weapon but could not. She knew there had to be some kind of knack to wielding it, and she knew he would of explained it, if she had asked, but, that would have been like admitting weakness, and she was not about to let him get that upper hand.

She recognised it as her brother's old sword, the one he was so proud of, the one she had never been allowed to touch. Since her brother's promotion to general, he did not venture into the field that often, and had cryptically said he had given the sword to someone he considered family. She knew how possessive soldiers' were of their weapons, and briefly wondered why Zack had suggested she try his out. She eventually came to the incorrect conclusion, that he was trying to mock her, by pointing out the physical difference between them.

She walked over to him, one hand on his elbow, the other on his shoulder – obviously suggesting he should lift his arm – which he did. She pushed against the bare muscles of his arm and shoulder, until she encountered tenderness.

"Ow!" he moaned.

"Stop being such a baby, its bruised, not broken," she mocked, with a hint of enjoyment at his reaction.

She removed a flash light from her utility belt of various items. Her utility belts were a strange, but well crafted, thing to behold; housing things Zack really didn't want to find out about first hand. She wore low riding, tight, black leather pants, and a long sleeved, soft, cleavage bearing, black leather top which ended just above her belly button. Angeal had chastised her for the obviously provocative outfit, but, she had worn it on purpose – to spite him, and retorted that it didn't really matter since no one was going to ask her out.

This being her first afternoon off in two weeks, she was slightly annoyed that Angeal would request that she in particular examine the newly returned Zack – though, she was loathed to send anyone to Hojo, even Zack. She knew his completed mission was of vital significance etc, but she had hoped for a break from the dreariness of the military base.

She was incredibly lonely at the military base. She had little in common with any of the women, and the least in common with the soldiers. She was going to turn 22 in a month, and hadn't gone on a date in almost a year.

When she had arrived, a semi-hygienic, vaguely attractive 3rd Class Soldier had asked her out. She had agreed, mostly to spite Angeal who had _forbid_ her from dating anyone…at all. But, her date had been speedily transferred to another unit the next day, and so, all her possible prospects vanished in one foul swoop. He certainly couldn't evoke fear or submission in her, but his Soldiers were his to command, and they soon saw his bigger picture – for his sister to live, untouched, by those who were not worthy of her. He had told her that it was for her own good, that dating a soldier would be an effort in futility, and only lead to heartache…But, she had not seen it that way, and subsequently didn't speak to him for a month.

Zack had noticed her distance herself from everyone – on the surface, it seemed like arrogance. Now, no one but Cloud went out of their way to talk to her or include her in anything – not even the drunken soldier karaoke dabbled in every Thursday night…though Zack had considered luring her to the torture once, but decided his life was worth more than the idle amusement it would give him. However, Zack had come to realise, that it was not arrogance which made her isolate herself, but pain.

Zack was frequently invited to dinners, though Angeal had insisted it was a standing invitation, where Zack and his General would work through dilemmas. Scarlet was obviously always there, as was Cloud, who Zack assumed she invited for backup, or to distract her from the tedium of discussing war. Theses were supposed to be working dinners, where strategies and battle plans were meant to be discussed – strategies which she inevitably pulled apart and criticised, and frequently voiced her doubts about his ability to lead. Though her suggestions were not completely off the mark, she often gave the enemy far too much credit, and would suggest excessively cautious tactics, or holes in his offensive plans. He had rue the day she had ever come – until he had come to understand her.

He had once asked her why she had made her uniform leather, and not the mako tinged blue scrubs the military doctors wore. "It's easier to disinfect," she had replied, as though it were obvious. The answer had confused him at the time. Until he saw her dripping from head to toe in blood that was not her own.

After a particularly furious battle, many soldiers had been severely wounded. If potions or materia cures were not administered in the field, at the latest, an hour after the initial wound, they would have no effect, and then the only hope was the hospital wing at the military base. And, in the field, cure material and potions were always in short supply.

Zack was significantly wounded that day, but less so than the life threatening injuries others had sustained in the vigorous battle. He lay in the Hospital bed for 24 hours, slipping in and out of consciousness, watching her drip with blood, crouch over patients and fight to save them, and hold the hands of those who would not make it. He heard Hojo reprimand her for working a double shift in the pit, and the chief surgeon command her to go home and rest, that others would take over form her now. But, as she walked towards the door, she saw Zack lying in the bed, eyes barely open, having lost copious amounts of blood because he had had to wait, because others injuries were far more serious.

"You should rest – it's nothing, really," he had managed to say as his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head.

"Don't be ridiculous," she replied, snapping on new surgical gloves and making sure the chief surgeon and Hojo had left. "Sorry you had to wait so long." Her voice sounded different, not the usual bickering tone he normally encountered. Perhaps it was a consequence of her being drenched in so much blood. "Tired yourself out using your cure materia on others again?" she smiled, a warm caring smile.

"They'll get to me soon. Please rest." His words were a soft whisper, lacking vitality and any type of conviction. He knew Hojo was a bastard who cared for no one, especially not the soldiers, but, he did seem to have a type of concern for Scar, even if it was just frustration that she was wasting her time and intellect on actually practicing medicine.

"Shift over then," she said, tapping his waist to give her some space on the bed. She flung a blue sheet over the bottom half of him and sat on top of it, separating her blood drenched form from his. She pulled out some supplies from the portable drawer next to him. "Relax, I promise I'll be gentle." She cut his semi-soaked turtleneck off, cleaned the wound on his side, injected him to numb the area and dexterously stitched him up. Though he couldn't really remember it now, she may have even attempted a joke, something about it 'not leaving a scar'.

She had then returned to him, ten minutes later, in mako-blue scrubs, hair just dry enough not to drip, and apologising for not being able to give him any blood since they had run out last night. She looked meaningfully at him for a long moment. "Promise me something," she had softly said. "Promise you won't take your next mako injection. I'm gonna give you some blood, but, you'll get very sick if you take your next injection. Just skip it for this month, okay?" But, she didn't wait for the drawl of a '_don't worry about me_' from Zack. She returned, hooked an IV into Zack's arm, and the other into hers, and then lay on the bed next to him. She was obviously the same blood type as him, O, a universal donor, he would have laughed at the thought if he could. Zack would of protested if he could, but, he had had the distinct feeling of falling off of his seat on a train.

When he awoke, he felt significantly better, but noticed her now almost green complexion next to him on the bed. She had begun screaming at him for pulling the IV out of both their arms, but, she no longer had the energy to continue the argument. She would have stormed out, but no longer possessed the energy to amble, let alone storm, and so, she allowed herself to momentarily close her eyes on the bed next to him.

When she had awoken, she had obviously felt a lot better, as she had regained enough energy to scream at him for letting her fall asleep on his bed and not waking her. He had liked it better when she was asleep, he had thought. When he had put his arm around her, as she shivered from the cold damp of her hair, the tinge of disinfectant all over her. She had stopped shivering, laced her fingers with his and let out a relieved sigh as the partial weight of his body warmed her. He could not be certain, the change so gradual, but…it was perhaps in this isolated, stolen moment, that he had begun to care for her.

When she had woken, she had flung his arm, perhaps a little too violently, off of her. Her eyes darting around to see if anyone else had seen her asleep on the bed with him. The other doctors had looked busy, and could not have cared less about where she slept, and she did not care about the opinions of the recovering soldiers who stared at her. But, she thought it only normal that she should lecture Zack, about his complete lack of sense, and the audacity he had had to hold her.

She twisted the small pen-like torch between her thin, elegant fingers. Definitely not a soldier's hands, he thought. "Hey, Zack, snap out of it," she said with irritation. Zack was always so easily distracted, and she wondered what the encroaching wistful look in his eyes was about. "Look forward, straight ahead," she commanded. The commanding tone in her voice was obviously an inherited family trait, he thought.

As she stood even closer to him, his legs on either side if her now, she frustratingly sighed. She put her hand on his thigh to balance herself as she stood on her tip toes, in order to be at eyelevel with his seated 1,93m form. She moved her left arm to his bare right shoulder now, feeling more steady in this position. She shone the torch in his eyes, peering deeply into them. She used to think the cool silver of her eyes beautiful, until she had met Zack, and had to regularly peer into the intense perfection of his orbs.

"A soldier should not have such beautiful eyes. Eyes for killing should be ugly, dark, impenetrable. Not this soft, liquid allure." Her breath warmed his skin, inches from his lips. And, although it was mingled with a dig at his profession, he got the distinct impression that a compliment had lingered within her words. But, as she breathed, one solitary breath away from him, he could not be sure of anything – especially not himself. As she shone the light into his other eye, the shakiness of the beam made him realise she was unsteady. He placed his hands on her hips to steady her. His impossibly large hands encompassed her, half on her belt, and half on the bare skin of her torso. She almost lost her composure at the feel of his, softer than expected, hands on her naked skin.

She put the flash light down, unable to look at him anymore. "No _new_ brain damage at least," she attempted to use humour to deflect this new growing tension she felt between them. She no longer stood on her tip-toes. Absently glancing at his unremoved hands on her waist, she flicked the stethoscope off of her neck and placed it on his chest. It took all the control she had to stave off any tremble in her hands.

"Breathe in deeply," she commanded, though it sounded oddly vulnerable this time. "Out," she said after a while.

Zack had noticed this about her – when she was with him, she either seemed commanding or vulnerable – though he rarely saw a glimpse of the latter. When he touched her – which she rarely allowed, and he infrequently was able to generate an excuse for – she would always soften, almost melt at his touch, as though she wanted to be held by him but would not ask.

She leaned in closer to him and put the stethoscope under his arm and on his back. "Breathe in again." Her voice sounded more vulnerable now, almost whispering the words to him as her head leaned close to his shoulder.

He smelled like sunlight to her, if sunlight could be thought of as a fragrance. It began with a hint of dust, a touch of leather, and the serenity and the warmth of summer, but there was something more, something completely indescribable, something that was just him – just Zack. She felt it warm her face with its glow and daze her with its intensity.

He put his arms around her, no longer able to control the urge. He lay his head on her shoulder, nuzzling her hair, breathing in her complicated scent. "Do you want to go out?" he breathed the words into her hair. "On a date…with me?"

She was silent for a while, but she did not push him away as his hands held her more securely against him.

She had been dazed by his scent and paralysed by his touch. She couldn't really grasp what was going on, she just heard the sound of his heartbeat quickening through the stethoscope and something muffled about a date. _Date…something about a date…an appointment maybe?_ She could not decipher the meaning of the words. "You've never made an appointment before, why start now?" she replied to what she logically assumed he had said.

She heard him sigh through the stethoscope and then gently pull her away from him. He regarded her with confusion, a gaze full of apprehension. He had tried asking her out before, with similar results.

"Do you wanna have dinner?" he had once asked her.

"You pose such a peculiar question. My desire for the meal has nothing to do with the fact that I'm going to have to eat something anyway." Her reply showed that she had obviously missed his meaning, but it had taken the wind out of his sales.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" he had asked one night after dinner.

"And where exactly would I walk? Around the armoury perhaps," she had mocked the suggestion and crushed his hope.

She was extremely hard to read, and her words often required much deciphering and contemplation before being understood. Cloud had suggested that he stop his ranting about her and just ask her out. But, Cloud had no idea how complex that seemingly simple task was. Right now, Zack assessed that she was either clueless about his feelings for her, and so, deemed going on a date an impossiblilty, or, she did not have any feelings for him and did not want to go on a date with him. Perhaps this was her way of letting him down easy and saving him the embarrassment of being turned down – but, he assessed that to be a silly notion, as he knew she would not think twice about embarrassing him in front of a crowd of people, let alone in private.

There was only one way to know her feelings for sure, and the thought of embarking on that mission, evoked more fear in him than anything he had done to date. He would gladly face a swarm of hostile beasts, but this…

_Fuck it_, he finally thought.

With his left hand on her waist, his right caressed her cheek as she removed the stethoscope from her ears and placed it on the bed next to him. She would not look at him, as though something unexpected was dawning on her. He gently lifted her chin up, his eyes locking her gaze.

"Scar…" he began. She could hear the anxiety in his normally casual voice. "Nothing would make me happier, than if you would agree to go out on a date with me tonight."

His words hung in the air – lonely, cold, and shivering.

Though it was, objectively, only a few seconds before she responded, a million scenarios ran through his head, all of them ending badly for him. With all these horrific scenes running through his head, her expression was unreadable to him.

"Angeal would notice my absence at dinner," she eventually replied, her tone as indecipherable as her expression. But, he finally thought, at least she hadn't absolutely said no and laughed in his face.

With both his hands on her hips again, he pulled her closer to his shirtless form. Her eyes were still locked by his unrelenting gaze. Her cool grey gaining a sudden vibrancy as he saw the lightest blush begin to form on her cheeks.

His voice seductively deepened as he said the words – the idea an almost inspiration to him. "How about desert then?" he tentatively ventured. She made no response, but her blush deepened. Still no response. "Meet me at the armoury at 10," he suggested, his alluring eyes causing her to almost melt.

He heard a soft gulp as she gingerly bit her now moistened bottom lip. She was beautiful, sexy, commanding, and now, oddly vulnerable. Her image looked so enticing to him that he unintentionally leaned in. "All I really want to do right now, is kiss you," he admitted, close to her lips.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Yes, I know I've written an OC…I know OC's are hard to do, but I have not found a strong enough female character to put any of the male FF characters with. This is my attempt to write a strong, flawed, but likeable female lead. I am trying to improve my writing skills, in relation to character development, and I think its more helpful when I create a whole character from scratch, and then see how you readers like her, rather than copy or distort an already existing FF character.

I have created a whole person, personality and everything…how do you like her? But, more importantly I would like to know how you like the story. Please review.

~Willow~


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